


Chemical Imbalance: Promises to Keep

by JadenSilver



Series: Chemical Imbalance [3]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-17
Updated: 2015-10-20
Packaged: 2018-03-23 11:09:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3765895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JadenSilver/pseuds/JadenSilver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Silver made Grif a promise. Once her family was safe, she'd help find his sister. Well, now they're settled in Pantheon,and she has one last obligation before she can finally enter civilian life. Find Grif's sister. It can't be that hard, right? Of course, knowing their luck, there's going to be a catch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I know it's not much, but here's a super short prologue for Promises to Keep, the sequel to Chemical Imbalance. This should be shorter than the first story, but will also be posted at the same time as a sister story, Recycled Heretics, which I'm co-writing with lilfoxkit. We have a lot of plans for this universe, and many sequels we want to write, so keep your eyes open for those. Aside from that, please enjoy, tell me what you think, and get ready for what should be a great adventure.

I'm exhausted. At this point, that's one of the only things I can think. I can't quite focus on the chair beneath me or the hard surface I'm leaning on.

Rho quickly reminds me of the stat of my armor: damaged with burn marks and scratches, as well as smudged with dirt and mud. There's probably some blood, too, though I can't remember if it's fresh, or if it's even mine.

Rho quietly whispers that most of it is 'hers'.

All together, this probably isn't the best I've looked. I heave a sigh that morphs into a yawn as a figure sits in the chair across from me. His brow is furrowed, eyebrows knit close together, and he takes a moment to clear his throat before speaking.

"What happened?"

I give a short, quiet laugh as I stretch a few sore spots out of my neck. "Do you want the long version or the short one?"

"I want the one that answers my question." I feel like there might be some amusement in that voice, though I can't be sure. It could be smugness. He certainly has reason to feel that way.

I nod for a moment, buying time as I try to sort through exactly what happened in the past few months. "Well, the short version is that we found Grif's sister."

"And the long version?"

"She wasn't the only thing we found."


	2. Chapter 1

Tension settles over the bar. There’s no movement, no sound. It feels like everyone is holding their breath. The scene is almost too similar to the old western movies Nick likes to watch, and I think I might have laughed about that if I didn’t have a gun in my face.

“I’m not here to fight,” I say, holding my hands out away from my body to show that I’m not reaching for the gun that’s clearly visible on my hip. I’d like to not have to kill any of these people if I can help it.

“Then you shouldn’t have come,” the man holding the gun says in a gruff voice. “UNSC soldiers aren’t welcome here.”

“I’m not with the UNSC,” I start.

“You’re wearing their armor,” he argues.

“I stole it,” I explain. “I’m sure that’s a concept you’re familiar with.” I know this is probably not the best time to be so sarcastic, what with the man threatening to shoot me and all, but I can’t bring myself to view him as a threat. Thus far he’s only actually aimed at me for a few seconds. The rest of the time his hand has wavered and aim drifted to just over my shoulder.

“Are you calling me a thief?” he asks angrily, spittle flying from his mouth when he talks. I’m sure if he weren’t shouting at me he’d be drooling in a corner somewhere. Even with my helmet’s air filters, I can still smell the alcohol on him. It’s a wonder he’s even able to stand.

“No, no, not at all,” I say quickly. “I’m sure you’re a perfectly law abiding person. The thing is, I’m really not here for you.” I try to glance over my shoulder, wondering what’s taking my partner so long, when a shake of the gun brings my attention forward again.

“Eyes on me,” the inebriated man snaps. “Now what, exactly, are you here for?”

“I just need to talk to him,” I say, nodding to the man behind the bar. The top of a UNSC insignia tattoo is barely visible by the collar of his shirt, which he pulls up to try to hide it.

“Yeah? Well I doubt _he_ wants to talk to you either,” the man says, stepping forward so my only options are to either step back or have the gun pressed to my visor. I hold my ground. “So how about you leave before things turn ugly?”

“I already said I’m not here to fight,” I repeat wearily. I’ve been searching for this guy all day, and really don’t want to deal with a few drunken idiots. “Just let me have a quick conversation and I’ll be on my way.”

“No,” the man says, finger finally moving from the side of the gun down to the trigger. I drop to the ground, hearing the bullet fly over me as he fires. I sweep his legs from underneath him and kick the gun away before he can re-aim.

Apparently this guy has friends, because a few people who had been sitting around the bar suddenly stand and join in the fight. I block clumsy attacks from patrons armed with beer bottles, trying not to use too much of the armor’s enhanced strength so I don’t hurt them.

I kick an overturned stool to my left, knocking it into a man’s legs and tripping him. He pushes up on his knees for a moment before sinking back to the floor, either giving up or unconscious. Two more attackers find their heads connecting with a dull thud and slump to the floor.

By this point the gunman’s finally recovered and climbed to his feet, retrieved weapon held in shaky hands. I kick it away before he can focus enough to fire and aim a second kick for the side of his head. He stumbles away from my attack without realizing, seeming confused by his own empty hands. His back hits the wall after a moment and he slides down, passing out before I can even hit him.

I stay like that, fists raised and mind alert for another attack, for a few more seconds. Once it’s clear no one else is going to try anything, I relax. I turn around and find a familiar figure in orange armor leaning against the wall in a shadowed corner.

“What was that?” I ask, approaching the sim-trooper.

“You kicking ass,” Grif answers, seeming pleased by the outcome. Part of me wonders if he’s managed to activate his helmet’s recording feature, from how pleased he sounds. “It was kind of awesome.”

“I asked you to back me up if we ran into trouble,” I remind him.

“Didn’t look like you needed any help,” he remarks.

I take a breath, trying not to lose my temper with the apathetic soldier. “There might not have been a fight at all if you’d helped,” I explain. “People are less likely to attack if they know I’m not alone. Now I had to beat them up and the bartender’s scared of me.”

“Which makes it easier for you to get him to talk to you,” Grif points out. “See? My plan worked.”

“You planned this?” I ask skeptically.

“Obviously,” he claims. “Who else would make a plan that involves doing nothing?”

I try to hide the laugh this invokes, though I’m only partly successful. “Well, you’ve got me there,” I admit before finally turning my attention to the bartender. To say he seems anxious would be an understatement.

“Hey, look, dudes,” he begins in a high pitched, irritating voice. “I don’t want any trouble, dudes. Just trying to do my job, make some cash, take care of the kids, you know how it is,” he continues to ramble.

“Enough,” I say, knowing I’ll only be able to tolerate this guy’s voice for so long. How he managed to keep a job in communications is beyond me. “You used to work for Freelancer, right?”

“Hey, I don’t know what you’re talking about, dudes, I never worked for-“

“Cut the crap, Vic,” Grif snaps. “I remember you from Blood Gulch.”

“Oh, hey, it’s you!” Vic says cheerily. He smiles in a way that seems almost unnatural, and I begin to wonder if this is really a living person. “How’ve you been, dude? What are you doing with Miss Angry and Insane here?”

“We’re looking for my sister,” he explains. “You sent us all our transfer orders when we left Blood Gulch, remember?”

“Sure I remember,” he says. “An entire simulation base decommissioned and both squads broken up and transferred. First time I’d ever seen that happen, dude. It was weird.”

“Where did they send Kai?”

“Kaikaina Grif,” I clarify, looking across the counter at the still-nervous brunette. “All the records from Blood Gulch were erased, so you’re our only chance of finding where she was sent. Do you remember anything?”

“Sorry, no can do,” Vic says. “There was only ever one Grif assigned to the Blood Gulch outpost.”

“She might have been stationed somewhere else,” Grif offers. “She’s fucking dumb. She could have found us instead by mistake.”

“Well if she was, I wouldn’t know, dude,” Vic says with a shrug. “I only handled the Blood Gulch simulation.”

“You only monitored one simulation?” I ask suspiciously.

“Yeah, like I said, it was weird,” he agrees. “Command said there was some kind of high value asset, which doesn’t make sense for how few training programs we ran through your dudes’ bases.”

“It seemed odd and you never asked about it?”

“No way, dudes. I’m not the kind of guy to poke around like that. I prefer to go with the flow,” Vic explains. “That’s my motto. Lay low, go with the flow.”

“Is there anything else you can tell us?” I ask, hoping against all evidence that this guy will be of some use and we won’t have wasted our time again.

“Well, there was one thing,” Vic says thoughtfully. “A few weeks after the last of you transferred out, there was another call from Blood Gulch. Some girl talking about a party. I didn’t think much of it, but I heard some freelancers were sent to check it out.”

“Which freelancers?”

“Dunno,” he shrugs. “But I know they weren’t on the leader-board. Those dudes only did the important missions.”

“Important like convincing us we’d gone to the future?” Grif questioned.

“Enough,” I say, knowing we won’t get any more information out of this guy. “Come on, we’re leaving.”

“But it’s night time,” Grif whines as I drag him to the door. “Night time is for sleeping. Shouldn’t we be finding somewhere to stay?”

“You can sleep once we’re in the air,” I promise, knowing he must be tired. It’s been a long day, and he’s used to the relatively light workload Freelancer gave their simulation soldiers. “It’ll take a long time to get where we’re going, so I want to start as soon as possible.”

“Where are we going?” Grif asks as he follows me. Our ship is parked just outside of town, and even though we’re on the other side of the settlement, it shouldn’t take too long to get there. This is still a relatively new colony, after all, and without UNSC funding, it hasn’t been growing very quickly. “Vic didn’t really tell us anything useful.”

“Actually, he did, though I doubt he realized it,” I say. “We already knew there weren’t any records of what happened in Blood Gulch, aside from that fake report we found. But there are records of Freelancer missions. If the investigation was made after Alpha was already gone, the Director might not have had it erased. Finding that report could give us the clue we need.”

“That still doesn’t tell me where we’re going,” Grif points out when we reach the ship.

“That’s because I’m not exactly sure, either,” I admit. “We need to find somewhere Project Freelancer would have stored archived missions logs. I know a guy who might be able to help… but we didn’t part of the best of terms last time. He might not be too glad to see us.”

“Like the last guy was so happy when we showed up,” Grif scoffs. He then goes silent as he thinks. Or maybe he’s just concentrating on making it up the pelican’s ramp. It’s hard to tell with him.

“We could go to that one Freelancer facility,” Grif finally offers, sounding slightly out of breath. “The one where we fought all those robot copies of Tex. Maybe there’s something there.”

“Maybe,” I say thoughtfully. “It’s at least worth a shot, and not too far.”

“Wait, you’re actually listening to me?” he asks as he sits in the copilot’s seat.

“You have more experience with Freelancer than I do,” I point out as we take off. “And it was a good suggestion. Why wouldn’t I listen?”

I see him shrug out of the corner of my eye. “Normally people with real training just ignore us.”

I smile and shake my head. “You proved yourself back when we were trying to find Dr. Han. And this is your sister we’re trying to find; your opinion matters here.” There’s no response, and after a moment I turn to see Grif slumped back in the chair, already asleep. I roll my eyes and set our coordinates before flicking the autopilot on.

Once I’m sure the ship’s taken care of, I stand and activate Grif’s safety restraints. The last time he slept with it off he ended up in the back of the ship during the landing. I then return back to my seat and close my eyes. He’s not the only one who’s tired, and I don’t like being alone when it’s this quiet. I’m used to the noise and movement of having my family around.

There’s a pang of worry and guilt in my chest when I think of them. I know I left at a bad time. I should have stayed to make sure they’re okay. Still, I couldn’t just ignore the promise I’d made to Grif. The longer we waited, the more our chance of finding his sister shrank. Besides, Wash is watching over my family, so they should be fine. I know I can count on him to take care of them.

I smile when I think of the former Freelancer. I remember his face the day I left. He seemed worried, but also hopeful. He made me promise to come back. Despite how simple the request sounds, I know it holds more weight for him. He’s lost people. Asking someone to stay is a risk for him. I’m glad he trusts me enough to think that risk is worth it. There’s a smile on my face when I finally fall asleep, and I know it’s because of Agent Washington.


	3. Chapter 3

I wake when the ship’s alert sounds, telling me we’re in orbit over our destination. I take a moment to yawn and stretch my arms before starting the landing procedure. Once I’m sure we’re on our way to the planet’s surface, and the ship won’t accidentally crash us into the ground, I stand and nudge Grif’s shin with my foot until he stirs. He’s managed to remove his helmet and is hugging it to his chest like some sort of plush toy a child would use. He awakes with a cut-off snore and lazily blinks his eyes open.

“We’re already there?” he questions through a yawn. I nod. “Five more minutes,” he requests then, closing his eyes and attempting to roll onto his side while sitting upright in a copilot’s seat.

“Grif, you just slept for eight hours,” I inform him, checking the time on the ship’s main console. “You don’t need five more minutes.”

“Yes I do,” he argues. “Everyone needs five more minutes. That’s my slogan if I ever run for office. ‘Five more minutes for everyone’.”

I stare at him blankly for a moment. “Just get up,” I finally say before moving into the back of the ship. Glancing around, it certainly looks like we’ve been living in here for weeks. Despite the fact that we’ve been light on supplies and don’t have much stored, Grif’s managed to find a way to make the few duffel bags look messy. I sigh as I nudge a suspiciously souvenir-esque rock he managed to smuggle on board further into the corner.

After tidying up as best I can, and making sure extra weapons and ammo are easily accessible in case of emergencies, I head back to the cockpit. Grif is, predictable, asleep again.

I shake his shoulder as I pass by, and he snorts awake. “What? What’s going on?” he asks blearily.

“We’re landing,” I say, wondering how he manages to fall asleep so quickly every time I turn my back. “If you ever want to learn how to do this properly, you’ll need to stay awake this time.”

“Why do I have to learn to land?” he asks in a whiny voice.

“Because you already mostly know how to fly, and I want to survive if you ever need to do this in an emergency.”

“If we’re ever in a position where I’m the one who needs to be flying, you’re probably already dead,” he argues, but sits up anyway. I begin showing him the different controls involved and how to read the gauges to tell if we’re level with the ground or not, as well as how to read the display showing how high up we are. After a few minutes we’ve landed safely.

“That didn’t seem too difficult,” he comments once the ship’s come to rest.

I glance at him skeptically. “What does this do?” I ask, pointing to one of the many switches in front of me.

“Uh, turn on the radio?” Grif ventures.

“That’s what I thought,” I say with a sigh, standing. “It’s an emergency shut off for all systems. It’s in case we need to go undetected for a little while. I don’t suggest using it very long, though, as it does stop the ship from giving us more oxygen.”

“Got it,” Grif nods. “Not for music.”

“Let’s just get going,” I encourage, ready to continue our mission.

“You know,” Grif says as he follows me out of the ship. “Most people would have started shouting at me by now.”

“I had to raise Caboose,” I explain. “That’s a responsibility that requires a lot of patience.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” he muses.

I wave him into silence as we approach the facility’s side door. This place looks like it’s been abandoned for a few years already, but I still want to be careful. I begin trying to get the door open as Grif leans against the wall next to me.

“You know, you could help,” I point out.

“I don’t know how to pick locks,” he shrugs.

I kick at the burned and melted locking mechanism. “This isn’t so much picking as it is breaking,” I argue. “This place has fallen pretty far into disrepair, and it looks like it was attacked at some point.” I back up a few steps before rushing forward, tilting my shoulder down as a battering ram. I bounce back a half foot and leave a small dent in the door.

“Wow. Great job,” Grif says sarcastically.

I glare at him while rolling my shoulder. “You do realize I’m doing this for you, right?”

“Oh, yeah…”

“Get over here and help me,” I order, waving for him to stand next to me. “When I say, run forward and try to hit the door with your shoulder.”

“Or we could not do that.”

“Grif!”

“Fine,” he grumbles, shuffling toward me. I count down before rushing forward again, this time waving Grif along with me. The result is a bigger dent in the wall, my shoulder getting even more sore, and Grif stopping a few inches before hitting the door.

“I swear to whatever deities may be listening, if you do that one more time, I will shoot you,” I growl as I stumble back.

“Yeah, I still don’t like this plan,” Grif says. “See, you’re an experimental super soldier. I’m not even a real soldier. If you get hurt running into the door, it’s likely to kill me. So I’d rather not run into the door, if it’s all the same to you.”

I glare at him for a moment before snatching the gun off his back.

“Hey, that’s mine!” he shrieks as he tries to snatch it back. “Give me back the Grifshot!”

“This was my brother’s, right?” I ask quietly as I back away from the door. Grif nods as he copies me, getting as much distance as possible between himself and the door I’m pointing the explosive weapon at. “In that case, I think I have a right to borrow it from time to time,” I say, sliding my fingers into well worn grooves on the handles. I can’t help but notice that those grooves seem meant for bigger hands than mine.

I push the thought from my mind as I pull back the lever on top of the rifle. After a quick press of the trigger, a grenade launches toward the door. It explodes on impact and the door caves inward.

I glance down at the two digits scratched into the side of the weapon; twenty-five. “Thanks, big guy,” I whisper before handing it back to Grif.

“That was weird,” he comments before sticking it to the magnetic strip on the back of his armor.

“Let’s just keep moving,” I say, leading the way inside.

The base looks about as bad on the inside as it did from the door. We pass through multiple rooms with consoles and computers too broken to even attempt using. Grif seems to grow nervous when we pass through a large storage room, particularly skirting around a concrete roadblock with a large dent in the top. Soon after we leave there, we find a room filled with rows upon rows of terminals.

“Is it just me, or do these all look… broken?” Grif says as he kicks at yet another shattered screen.

“This is an abandoned base that’s been allowed to fall into disrepair for years,” I point out. “What did you expect to find?”

“Uh, something of actual use to us?” he ventures.

“We’ll keep looking,” I assure him. “But we’ll be lucky if we can find a single computer in working order.”

“Well that’s great,” he says dejectedly, sifting through some rubble.

“Why don’t we try splitting up?” I suggest. “There’s obviously no one else here, so no need to stay close. If there’s anything here worth finding, we’ll fine it faster that way.”

Grif nods, moving into the next room. I watch him go before moving toward the least damaged looking terminal in the room. It’s powered down, and there are a few dents in the side that look suspiciously like they were caused by bullets, but I suspect I can make it work. It’s certainly a better option than any of the others in the room.

I pull off my helmet and set it on top of the terminal. Hopefully it will be able to power the computer long enough to tell us something useful. Hopefully I won’t also destroy my helmet in the process. I’ve been running on hope a lot lately.

I glance in the direction the sim-trooper went as I work. This mission has certainly been… odd with him around. These guys have always had a knack for stumbling into exactly what they need to find with blind luck, and he’s been no exception. I’m used to a bit more planning when I work, but lately I’ve found myself making more vague plans and hoping for the best. It seems to be working so far, though part of me still thinks this is due to Grif’s luck. Either way, we’re closer to finding his sister than I’d honestly thought we’d ever get, especially after visiting Blood Gulch.

I still remember the sim-trooper’s mixed emotions when we landed in the burnt out canyon. He’d spent many years here before getting dragged into Project Freelancer’s mess, and he’d formed a sort of hateful love for the place. Part of him had been upset that it was destroyed, while another was happy to see it gone. He’d then voiced fear that if both bases were burnt to ash, we might not be able to tell if Sisters body was there.

Luckily, everyone from the Gulch had a habit of constantly wearing their armor. The armor they’d been given, while a lesser version than what the Freelancers used, was still durable, and wouldn’t melt except under the most extreme temperatures. We even found a few suits buried near one of the bases, but Grif confirmed that they were some of Church and Tex’s past bodies. If Kaikaina had died there, we’d have found some trace.

Unfortunately, there’d been nothing. No body or signs of life in either base, nothing in the field between them, or the caves in the cliff walls. There was no trace of even a single soldier living there. In the end, we had to guess that she’d left before the Director ordered for the bases to be destroyed, presumably to remove any evidence of the Alpha’s presence. Not that it did him any good, in the end.

After that, we’ve been following mostly dead end leads on a trail that’s been stale for years. Unsurprisingly, we haven’t had many breakthroughs. What is surprising is that the trail hasn’t ended yet. Every time we don’t find a definite lead, we do find a clue that could bring us closer. It’s slow going, but I’m beginning to think we might actually find her.

“Hey, Silver!” Grif calls from the other room just as the computer turns on.

“Haven’t found anything yet!” I shout back.

“Well, I have, and I need you to see it before it kills me!” he shouts back.

I sigh as I turn away from the console. “Grif, if this is another bat, I swear I’m gonna let it bite you,” I call.

“If it was a bat, I wouldn’t be calling for help. I’d be screaming and fleeing,” Grif argues as I approach. “Still, I think this is something to be worried about,” he continues, pointing to the purple device at his feet.

I get a feeling of déjà vu as my eyes land on the object. While this one has clearly taken some damage, I can still easily recognize what it is. It looks just like the ones Rho was sent to Imbalance in.

“Is that what I think it is?” Grif asks, backing away as he points his gun at it.

I nod, bending down to inspect the storage unit. “It’s an AI.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just like with Recycled Heretics, lilfoxkit has joined on as my co-author for this story. (Three cheers for more time to spend writing with my boyfriend.)

“You’re scared of AIs?” I ask as I carefully pick up the unit. It’s damaged, with scratches in the plating and a light plasma burn on one side, but the light on it is still glowing. Unless it’s a malfunction, there’s an AI in here.

“I’ve seen what those things can do, lady. So, yeah, I’m scared of them,” Grif answers. His voice is nervous, and he’s still backing away from the device. “That’s why I dropped it the moment I realized what it was. I was hoping it’d break,” he states as he once again raises his rifle.

I try not to glare at Grif as he explains. I know he and the other sim-troopers had a lot of trouble with the Omega AI before. It’s natural for him to be wary of an unknown AI, especially in a place like this, where he’s already fought multiple battles. Still, I can’t take too kindly to his mistreatment of the unit. It’s already damaged, and if it fails, the AI inside could be trapped forever. Essentially, it’d be dead, stuck in a blank holding cell with no way out. I can’t help but remember Rho when I think this. After all the time I’ve spent with her, both helping fix her and growing to accept her as family, it’s natural for me to think of AIs as people.

I take a moment to check over the storage unit, ensuring that it won’t fail unexpectedly. Despite the outward damage, the internal structure looks nearly unharmed. Though it wouldn’t be safe to open now, I’m confident it could be stabilized and the AI inside retrieved with some work.

During the inspection, I notice a small Greek symbol scratched roughly into the plating. It’s the letter Zeta. While it isn’t exactly a confirmation, I would be willing to bet this is an Alpha fragment I’m holding.

“Don’t worry,” I whisper as I stick the unit to the magnetic storage strip on my lower back. “I’ll get you fixed up as soon as I can, Zeta.”

I then stand and face Grif again. “Come on,” I say, ignoring his obvious discomfort at my choice to keep the AI. “I got one of the computers working. Let’s go see if it has any clues.”

Grif nods, attention successfully diverted back to the mission. “Do you think there’ll be anything useful?” he asks.

“Well, this place looks like it was primarily used for distributing resources to the simulation bases,” I begin as we walk back to the computer still attached to my helmet. “But it seems its secondary purpose was data storage and video observation of Freelancer’s other bases. It we’re lucky, this will include Blood Gulch. We could find mission reports and personnel assignments.”

“Which would either tell us where Sister went, or what those Freelancers found in Blood Gulch after we left,” Grif guesses.

“Exactly,” I agree with a nod. I don't wait for a response as I begin searching through the computer. I know I'm not the most qualified for this; Yttri or Nick or even Iodine would be better suited for the job. Still, mom made sure all of us had at least some basic knowledge of computer science and repair. Between that and some of what Rho's shown me over the years, it doesn't take too long to get past whatever security would normally be in the way.

I open the files labeled personnel assignment first, hoping to see if a Kaikaina Grif had been sent anywhere during the time she went missing. Unfortunately, all I find under her file is a report stating she'd gone missing en-route to Blood Gulch years ago. A quick scan shows that she attempted to steal a ship and run away when she'd been assigned, stating she wanted to find her brother. Oddly enough, she had already been assigned to Blood Gulch, which is where she found Grif anyway.

"That's... odd," is all I can manage, unsure of what to make of the circumstance for her being listed AWOL.

"Yeah, she's kind of dumb," Grif explains.

After more searching I notice a single amendment to her file, though the data’ been corrupted. It does, however, hold several links. Clicking one open, I find something rather surprising; a recovery team had been sent to Blood Gulch. I try checking for more details on this team and their mission, only to be met with even more corrupted data.

"What's that mean?" Grif asks, leaning over my shoulder and getting in the way as I try to find any useful information.

"Someone doesn't want us to know what that mission was about," I say, pushing him back. "Though from what we saw that's left of Blood Gulch, it's not too hard to guess."

"Does it say if they found my sister?"

"It doesn't say anything," I sigh. "The data's corrupted; it’s gone. My guess would be that it’s intentional, too. Better to get rid of the information than try to put it behind security that could potentially be breached."

"Why would they bother hiding this?" Grif asks.

"The Director destroyed every document that had even the slightest bit to do with the Alpha," I shrug. "I guess whatever happened in Blood Gulch counts, too."

"Well, is there anything useful here?" Grif sounds annoyed, and I sympathize. It’s been frustrating to find so many dead ends.

I nod, going back to the previous files. "It doesn't say what the mission was about, or what they found, but it does say who was sent," I say slowly as I read over the information presented. “Agents Michigan and Alabama," I eventually say aloud.

"Well, let's go talk to those guys, then," Grif suggests, eager to follow the first real lead we've had in over a month.

"That might be difficult," I explain. "All the Freelancers are either in jail or doing a very good job of hiding themselves."

"So?! Washington got out of jail!" he yells, somewhat trying my patience. I know it’s not his fault, but I do sometimes wish he would just let me make the plans. Despite all the stumbling around in the dark we’ve been doing lately, I really do know what I’m doing here. "And-"

I feel some confusion at his sudden pause, though I quickly look back at the screen when I finally notice him staring at it.

"What's wrong?" I ask, noticing his eyes filtering over the list of all personnel assigned to Blood Gulch in the past.

"That guy," Grif says, pointing to a blanked out section where I would expect Blue Team's members to be listed. "He shouldn't be there."

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"Well, to start, we deleted all the blues," Grif explains. "It was some dumbass plan from Sarge or something. Anyway, there shouldn't be any records about that. Plus, I know everyone who was stationed to Blue Team during my time there, and I don't recognize that name. That's a Freelancer name."

I take a closer look. "Agent Florida," I start. "His body wasn't recovered; neither was his armor or its enhancement. Says here his real name is Butch Flowers."

“You mean Captain Flowers?” Grif asks. “He was leading Blue team for a while, until he died. I think Tucker took his armor, actually.”

“Then Tucker is in possession of real Freelancer armor, not the simpler version the rest of you were given,” I say, eyes scanning Florida’s profile. “He probably still has the x-ray unit, too.”

"X-Ray unit?" Grif asks.

I nod. "It says here it was assigned to him to..." I pause, trying to fill in the blanks of what's been blocked out. "I guess it's saying to check on Alpha. He needed to keep Church from realizing he was an AI, but he had to check that nothing had fallen out of place inside his robot body, so they gave him an armor enhancement to allow him to see through things."

I squint at the computer as I read the rest of the file. "It's odd," I finally say. "Freelancer didn't care much about finding bodies, but they did care about armor. I'm surprised they let it disappear like that."

“Do you think Tucker knew he had that ability?” Grif asks as I click on an attached file. I quickly realize that it’s a record of every time the x-ray unit was activated. My answer to Grif’s questions fades into quiet anger as I read.

The log starts with a large cluster of activations, presumably to test that the unit was working. Then there are numerous bi-weekly uses which I assume were from Florida checking Alpha for any damage. Around the time I remember Tucker saying their team captain died, the activations stop.

A few weeks later there's another small spike in usage. I can't help but imagine this is when Tucker first discovered the ability. This quickly falls back down to zero, I assume as Tucker realized the ability did him little good with only his teammates around. There was another small spike hen Donut was assigned to the canyon, followed by a report that someone had attempted to damage the unit.

I sigh and shake my head, thinking of how Caboose still sometimes thinks the pink armored man is a girl. I’m sure Tucker still regrets that mistake to this day.

There's another rise in usage when Sister arrives in the canyon, and again when they meet Carolina. Afterward, there doesn't seem to be much activity. That is, until around the time I first ran into the sim-troopers.

"Hey, isn't that around the time you met us?" Grif asks, pointing to the screen, clearly amused by the act. “I guess he was really glad for the armor upgrade then.”

"We need to make a quick turn around." I say somewhat calmly.

"What? Why?"

"So I can stop by Pantheon and strangle him."

"Ah, come on, it's not that bad," Grif argues. "Besides, look. He stops using it eventually," he adds, pointing back to the screen.

I look where he's indicating before grinning a bit. "That's the day Tinu punched him in the head."

“See? I think he paid for it,” Grif says. “Although, if you want to beat up a blue once we’re done finding Sister, I certainly won’t stop you,” he then adds.

“So you’ve still got a thing against the blues,” I muse as I begin searching for where the two Freelancers are now. “You know, you’re starting to sound a bit like Sarge.”

Grif groans at the observation, sounding disgusted. “Don’t even joke about that. I’m nothing like Sarge. I just tend to hold it against someone when they’ve shot at me for the past few years of my life.”

“And yet, you all seem to be friends now.”

“That’s ‘cause Carolina said she’d shoot us if we didn’t work together to find the Director,” Grif argues. “Without that, we’d still be in our separate bases getting our asses kicked by Wash.”

“I guess you owe her a lot then,” I say.

“Yeah, maybe,” Grif shrugs. “She at least took Church away, so there’s one less asshole from that canyon to deal with.”

I glance back at him for a moment. While I’ve noticed it’s normal for most of the sim-troopers to hold onto the mentality of being enemies, it’s not something I normally associate with Grif. Holding a grudge seems like too much work for him. It takes me a moment to realize that he’s just trying to keep something familiar in his life. In the canyon, nothing ever seemed permanent. People died and came back as ghosts, and giant explosions only ever threw you through time. No one really got hurt. Now his sister is gone, and last he heard she’s been killed. It makes sense that he’d hold onto those old rules in the hope that she’ll somehow be alive and fine somewhere, despite the very real chance that she’s gone for good.

I choose not to say anything, instead fixing my eyes back on the screen. I know what it’s like to cling to whatever hope’s available. I know how it feels to lose family. However I can, with whatever power I have, I’ll do my best to stop him from experiencing that. It’s the least a friend can do.


	5. Chapter 5

I take a slow, deep breath, trying to hide any signs of annoyance. Okay, I let a little show through, but it's calculated. I don't think it will hurt for Spore to know he's trying my patience.

"Look, I know you followed Freelancer's fall like a vulture," I say, glaring at the stubborn alien. "I also know that if you tracked where the equipment went, you must have also tracked where the agents went. Just tell me where the former Freelancers are locked up,” I demand.

Spore taps his chin thoughtfully for a moment, movement deliberately slow as he tries to irritate me further. It’s a negotiation tactic that I don’t appreciate. “I might tell you,” he finally decides, eyes flicking upward to meet my visor. “If there’s something good in it for me.” I hear Grif let out something between an annoyed grunt and a groan.

"What do you want?” I ask, hoping to speed things up by being direct.

"Information is always good," he says with a toothy grin. "Did you happen to stumble across anything interesting while in Covenant custody?"

"I was a little busy trying to not get executed," I answer. There's a small crash and I glance over my shoulder at Grif, who's begun to wander around Spore's new shop while we talk. This time he appears to be selling second-hand clothing, though I wouldn't be surprised if there were weapons hidden in the t-shirt racks.

Spore glares at Grif until he backs away from whatever he knocked over. Once the sim-trooper's far away from anything he can break, Spore focuses on me again. "Yeah, that seemed like a tough break," he says with a nod. "Although, you were exonerated in the end, so no harm done. Still, I suppose I should apologize for trying to turn you in that time, huh?"

"You can make it up to me by telling me what I want to know," I offer with fake sweetness.

"Sorry, can’t. That’s still no good to me," he says, making it clear he wants something out of the deal. I let out a soft sigh, knowing he won’t be able to hear the frustrated noise through the helmet.  

"What about that creepy AI?" Grif suggests from the back of the room.

Spore seems to perk up a bit at this suggestion, craning his long neck to get a look at the storage unit I'm still carrying.

"No," I say before he has a chance to agree. "He's not for sale."

"You sure?" Spore asks. "I can get you a lot more than just information for a real AI, or even one of those Freelancer fragments. Rumor has it a few are still missing. I’ve already got a buyer lined up for if I ever find one, too. You could get pretty rich from one of them."

"Not gonna happen," I refuse, turning so the unit is out of his line of sight.

Spore shrugs, masking his disappointment at the refusal well. Of course, he couldn’t have expected for me to actually give him an AI. They’re far too valuable. "Then there really isn't anything you have that I want," he claims, pretending to clean the counter before him in a disinterested fashion.

I roll my eyes and pull a chip out of the side of my helmet. "You sure about that?" I challenge, holding it up for him to inspect.

Spore steps closer and grabs my wrist, bringing it down to his eye level. "What is this?" he asks.

"A speed unit," I answer. "Yttri made it. She said they should be ready for production soon, but I get one of the prototypes."

“No," he says rather suddenly. "No good clients, too new,” he claims, causing me to raise an eyebrow in both shock and surprise.

"You've seen what she makes before," I say.

"And I know how that kind of thing can change when someone starts working professionally," Spore adds. "No way am I putting my good name on something untested. I have a reputation around here."

I growl under my breath and glance at Grif, eyeing the gun on his back. I then shake my head. Even if he'd be willing to give it up to help find his sister, I'm not sure if I can see it go. I don’t have much left of Manny, and freely giving away something that was his just isn’t an option.

"What do you want, then?" I ask once again. I'm aware that we're in Spore's territory now. If he doesn't decide to help us by giving an option, there's really nothing I can do. Not if I want to stay on his good side, that is.

"Then there is nothing for us to do,” he says, waving us off. “Sorry, ‘Sylvia’,” he adds, putting special emphasis on the fake name. “You should have brought something to trade if you wanted to get anything out of me.”

I remain still for a moment. I know what I have to do, of course, but I don’t like it. Spore is a cheat and a smuggler of some of the lowest variety, but in some ways I have considered him a friend. He helped me get the armor and upgrades I needed to keep my family alive many times. Still, I can’t give up the last lead we have for finding Grif’s sister.

I mutter an apology under my breath before playing my last card. "If I leave here without the info, I wouldn't be surprised if your customers found out about what you did to me."

"What?" Spore asks, sounding genuinely surprised. After a moment his pupils narrow into a glare.

"I know the sort of people you work with, and how much loyalty matters to them," I explain. "I'm sure they won't like to hear that you tried to get one of your customers arrested."

"Those were extenuating circumstances," Spore growls. "I thought you were a killer."

"Just like half the mercs you sell to," I point out. "You and I both know they won't care what I did to anger you. All they'll care about is if they're safe buying here or not."

“You wouldn’t,” he challenges, folding his arms. “I know you. You care about honor.”

“Honor takes a back seat to loyalty,” I explain. “And I need this information to help a friend. That means I’ll do anything to get it.” I brace my hands on the counter and lean forward. “So? What’s it gonna be, Spore?”

Spore lets out a low, challenging growl. "Fine,” he eventually concedes in an angry, sullen voice.  “I'll give you what you want, but I don't want to see you around here again. Understood?"

I nod. I’d realized I’d be burning a bridge the moment I spoke, but there was really no other choice. I won’t let Grif go without knowing where his sister is just to keep myself on good terms with a trader.  Besides, knowing Spore, it won’t take more than a fancy piece of technology or some good information to get me back on his good side, should the need arise.

"Wait here," he instructs, hitting a button under the counter. The wall behind him slides away, revealing a small hallway. Spore walks in and lets the door close behind him without so much as a glance back.

I sigh and lean against the counter, feeling bad for the threat. Despite being a smuggler and a cheat, Spore really isn't that bad a person. I hate to have to threaten him like that.

"Was that a good idea?" Grif asks, stepping up beside me now that the angry alien isn't there to glare at him. "He seemed like the kind of person you wouldn't want to make mad."

I shake my head. "He's pretty harmless, actually," I say. "The only reason no one messes with him is because he supplies some very dangerous people, and you don't want to be responsible for stopping them from getting what they want.” I stare at the outline of the wall panel he left through. "Besides,” I continue, “I doubt I'll need to come back here again. We'll both be living normal lives pretty soon, right? I won’t have a need for black market connections then.”

Grif nods, staring at the door for a second. I'm somewhat glad when I hear it open again a minute or so later, breaking the silence.

"Alright," Spore says, setting a holo-pad on the counter just hard enough to make a sound without breaking it. I’m sure he means for the act to be seen as barely contained rage. "Here's everything you need to know about where the UNSC locked the Freelancers up. Take it and get lost."

I thank him quietly as I scoop the pad off the counter. A few quick button taps has everything downloaded to my HUD, and I hand him back the device. Spore barely acknowledges Grif and I as we finally leave.


	6. Chapter 6

I catch myself pacing while we wait. I carefully steer myself back to Grif’s side. I hate this place for many reasons, not the least of which being that myself and my whole family very nearly had to spend the rest of our lives here. I also know the man who runs this prison, Malcolm Hargrove, former Chairman of the Oversight Subcommittee and current warden of an infamous prison known for holding numerous war criminals. He was in charge of the search to find my family, and had planned for most of us to be executed. Needless to say, we did not leave on pleasant terms the last time we met. Of course, he did threaten my family and call us little more than UNSC property, so he had it coming. Still, I now find my own threats toward him coming back to haunt me. It’s entirely up to him if we’ll be allowed to visit the two prisoners we’ve come to see. All I can hope is that he isn’t so petty as to stop us.

I rub my hands up and down my bare arms as I sit beside Grif. I feel like it’s been years since I’ve been out of armor, and I’m nearly right. I’ve rarely taken the suit off since Mom’s betrayal. But we’re already pressing our luck coming here, and I don’t want to risk being stopped by security for armor that is nearly a weapon on its own.

“Chill out,” Grif mumbles from beneath the arm he’s draped over his face. I jump, having thought he was asleep.

“One of us has to stay alert,” I jab good-naturedly, though I do try to take his advice. Visible nervousness won’t help our appearances at all.

Grif peeks out from underneath his arm after a moment and lets out a soft laugh. “Now you just look constipated,” he comments.

I glance at him with narrowed eyes. “It’s not easy to be comfortable here,” I explain. “I’m unarmed, out of armor, and surrounded by soldiers that would have shot me on sight a few months ago.”

“Yeah, well, they’re not gonna try and shoot you now, so what’s the big deal?”

“Nothing,” I sigh, sinking a bit further into the waiting room chair. “It just goes against my instincts to let my guard down.”

“See, that’s why I don’t have those kinds of instincts,” Grif says, lacing his fingers over his eyes and leaning his head back once again. “They get in the way of naps.”

I grin a bit and shake my head. “You know, Sarge is right. You really are hopeless,” I say.

“For once, I’m glad that Sarge is right about something,” Grif mumbles.

We wait in silence for a few more minutes, Grif sleeping while I try my best to relax. Eventually a guard enters the waiting room and signals for us to follow him. I nudge the former sim-trooper with my elbow to get him moving before standing to follow the guard.

He leads us through a series of doors that have to be unlocked remotely. I try not to feel on edge as I hear each door lock again after we pass through. I know its standard procedure. A part of me still feels like we’re being trapped.

We soon reach a room divided in half by a wall of glass. I see two inmates on the other side and assume they’re the Freelancers we’re here for.

“You have ten minutes,” the guard says before opening the door for us. He waits outside after Grif and I enter, once again locking the door behind us.

“They don’t seem paranoid at all,” Grif says, eyes rolling back in his head with the comment as he moves to one of the chairs by the glass divider. He flops into the seat and leans back, apparently willing to let me handle the conversation.

I follow him without responding, studying the former freelancers who have been watching us. The man is agent Alabama, according to his files, and the woman is Rhode Island. There wasn’t much information aside from that and their specialties. She’s a demolitions expert and he’s a fairly low ranked sniper. Their files say they’re a good team, though nowhere near the level of skill seen in the higher ranked Freelancers like Carolina.

“Who the fuck are you?” one of them eventually asks, glaring at us suspiciously.

"Someone looking for information," I answer.

The taller of the pair sizes us up for a moment. "What kind of information?" she finally asks.

"Blood Gulch," I reply simply. It was their last mission before Freelancer’s end. I know they’ll remember it.

The two share a look for a moment before focusing back on us. "We don't know anything about that," Alabama answers.

"Dudes, don't even start with that," Grif cuts in. "We know you used to be Freelancers and we know that was the last mission you went on before everything went to shit. Just tell us what happened there."

"What's in it for us?" Rhode Island asks. "Or at least me," she adds, shooting a dirty look toward Alabama.

"Real mature, Rhodes," her partner mutters.

"I'm not the one that got us caught, Ala," she snaps back.

"Enough," I say, catching both of their attentions. "We're not here to get in the middle of your rivalry. We just want to know what you found."

"What makes you think we found anything?" Alabama asks. "That place was a dust ball even before we got sent there. There wasn't anything to find."

"Then what would you have to bargain with?" Grif asks suddenly.

"We don't have anything to bargain with," the man insists, standing with folded arms and walking toward the cell's door.

"Who are you trying to protect?" Rhode asks, turning in her chair to call to him. "The project's over. We may as well use what we know to try to get out of here."

The two stare at each other in silence for a moment, seeming to communicate a lot through the silence. In the end, it appears Rhodes wins. She sits a bit straighter in her chair while Ala’s shoulders droop.

“We’re still not talking unless you have something to offer,” he woman reminds us after the silence.

"Look... maybe we can pull some strings,” Grif says suddenly, grabbing their attention for the first time.  “You wouldn't be the first Freelancers to get out of jail,” he points out.

I glance at the Hawaiian but choose to stay silent. As far as I know, there's nothing we can do to help these two. It was risky enough to even try to visit, given my history with the warden. I'm certain Grif is bluffing. I hate to think that lying like this will become normal practice for us, but I know it's not the worst of what I've done in the past. I promised to do whatever it took to find his sister. A lie is a small price to pay for that.

"What do you think Ala?" the woman finally says, glancing back at her partner.

He stares at us for a moment, glancing between Grif and myself before answering. "Why do you want to know about that mission?" he eventually asks. "It was nothing important; just a demolitions test."

"It's where I was stationed," Grif answers. "I lived there for years, and I knew people there."

"So you’re looking for someone?" the female guesses, her eyes narrowing a little.

"Just a sim-trooper," I explain. "Nothing important to either of you. Nothing you would need to hide to protect anything."

"And... you think you can actually get us out of here eventually?" Alabama asks, the faint sound of hope in his voice.

"No guarantees, but we can try," Grif says. "We've got some pretty important friends, and a few people owe us favors."

The former freelancer begins to smile a bit as he looks down at his still seated partner. "Heh... hey Rhodes, you owe me that cigarette."

"You don't even smoke," she replies blandly, though there’s a tension in her jaw that shows she’s trying not to smile as well.

"Do you always have to ruin my good time?" he says sulkily, a fake pout forming on his face.

"Of course," she answers. "How else could I pull your head out of the clouds?"

I give them a moment to smile to themselves, apparently having resolved some sort of minor feud, before interrupting. "Will you help us or not?" I ask. "We don't exactly have a lot of time here."

The smiles fade from both their faces as their gazes fix on me. "Alright," the woman answers, voice all business now. "What was it you wanted to know again?"

"I'm looking for my sister,” Grif starts. “She refused her orders when we all left and stayed at the old base. Knowing her, she was probably throwing stupid parties or something," he adds.

The two share a look for a moment before Alabama nods. "We did find a... soldier, of sorts," he says slowly.

"She tried to sleep with both of us on the pelican ride back to command," Rhode adds, amusement coloring the words.

Grif nods tiredly. "Yeah, that does sound like her," he says sadly.

"You took her back to command?" I ask, trying to keep them on topic. I don't want that guard to drag us out of here before we learn what we need to know.

Rhode Island nods, face turning serious once again. "We were told both bases would be abandoned so we could test those new bombs. But while we were setting up the first one, we found that girl. We couldn't just leave her there, so command said to bring her back for questioning."

"Do you know what happened to her from there?" I press.

Alabama shakes his head. "Security picked her up after we landed. They were supposed to question her, but stuff kind of started blowing up after that. We never really saw where she went once we reached command."

"Blowing up?" I question.

"Maine came back after going rogue and trashed the place. Washington helped him out, from what I heard. All I know is everything went to shit about an hour after we landed, and we barely made it out," Rhode answers.

"We didn't even do anything!" the other suddenly yells in frustration. "We had just been recruited in the project. How can they arrest us for being there for two weeks?" he demands.

"Hey, hey, calm down; they'll get us out of here soon enough," Rhodes tries to calm her younger partner.

"And then what?” he snaps. “With our records, who'd hire us?"

The taller of the pair shrugs. "We'll figure something out. We've got our training. That's bound to be worth something."

"Yea right, maybe as mall cops," he sulks. Rhodes rolls her eyes.

“We were low ranked agents in a competitive military project. The worst of Freelancer is the best of any UNSC division. That’ll count to the right employer,” she insists.

The guard approaches a moment later. "Time’s up," he announces, standing in the doorway.

I nod before glancing back at the bickering pair. "Is there anything else you can tell us that might help?"

The man shakes his head. "Sorry. Best I can say is to check command's records. Maybe they managed to process her before the attack."

“And don’t forget our deal,” Rhode Island adds. “We expect to hear from you guys again some day.”

Grif nods a bit before following after the guard. As we leave I see another guard on their side of the glass, ready to take them back to their cell.

I glance at Grif once they're gone. "Think there's anything you can do for them?" I ask, following our own guard out of the visiting room.

Grif shrugs, seeming unconcerned. "Not really," he answers.

"You told them you would," I point out without inflection. I know I have to room to judge, so I try to not sound accusing, but I can’t help that I don’t approve.

"I told them I would do whatever I can," he corrects. "And what I can do is nothing. So I'll do that."

"Asshole," the same guard from before mutters, snagging Grif's shoulder with his own as he walks by.

Grif glares at the man as he leads them back to the exit, though he doesn't bother arguing.

"You know, if they ever do get out, those two will probably come after you," I point out as the guard unlocks the next door.

"What'd you want me to do?" Grif snaps. "We needed them to tell us what happened to Kai."

"That doesn't make it right," I venture.

"It doesn't make it wrong, either," he counters. "Besides, at least now they get to hope they'll get out. It's better than what they had before, right?"

"I beg to differ," I say, speaking from experience. Hope is great for a time, but once it dies, everything is always worse than before.

"It doesn't matter," he says eventually. "We'll find Sister. That's what's important."

I don't argue. I know that feeling of putting everyone second after your family. It doesn't make me feel any less bad about this, but I can understand it.

I breathe a sigh of relief when we're finally past all the locked doors and standing in the open once again. I had spent too long convinced that prison would be both mine and my family's futures. I didn't like being there, even if it was just to visit.

"Come on," I say, trying to get Grif to hurry as we head back to the ship. I want to get my armor back on and I want to get as far away from this place and our questionable actions here as soon as possible. "We need to get to Freelancer Command."


	7. Chapter 7

“Remind me again why we’re here,” Grif requests as we enter orbit around a small moon.

“We need to get something,” I answer distractedly, trying to remember the exact coordinates for where we need to land.

“I thought those freelancers said what we needed is at their old command base,” he argues. “Not yours.”

“Searching a base that had all its stored data destroyed in an EMP won’t do us much good,” I argue, ignoring the small muttering of ‘emp’ this elicits. “If we want to find anything when we get there, then we’ll need help. Specifically the help of an AI.” I enter the coordinates for our base’s hidden entrance and put the ship on autopilot as we descend.

 “Nick and Rho know about this place,” I continue. As I speak, I pull the broken AI storage unit from a compartment in the wall and begin performing some small repairs. I’ve been trying to work on it whenever I have free time during transit. It’s nowhere near stable enough to try to access, but there’s little chance of it collapsing and destroying the AI stored inside now. “I couldn’t think of anywhere better to have them meet us.”

“Doesn’t this place have, like, bad memories, or something?” Grif asks. I try not to sigh at the tactlessness of his statement. I know it’s his way of showing concern, or at least I think it is.

“That’s part of why we’re here,” I say quietly, hands stilling over the AI unit as I remember the day of the attack. “I left something unfinished. I need to go take care of it.”

Grif goes silent after my statement, apparently perceptive enough to know when to let a subject drop.

I tuck the AI unit away again once we land, trying to push the dread from my mind. I wish, for a moment, that this was Rho and not some stranger AI. I think it would be easier to do this with her here with me. She’s always been good at helping me deal with stuff like this.

I lead the way out of the ship and brace against a flood of memories the moment I step off the ramp. The hangar is nearly the same as we left it. The fires have long burnt out, and there are more bodies than I remembered, but aside from that it’s the same.

I step up to one of the bodies cautiously, glad my suit filters the air enough that I can’t smell it. It takes a moment to confirm my suspicion. It’s a copy. A quick glance shows that the others scattered around the hangar are as well.

“What happened?” Grif asks, sounding more confused than horrified by the sight.

“Mom abandoned them,” I say, feeling numb as the realization sinks in. It isn’t surprising, really. These must have been fairly easy for her to make. They weren’t worth recovering and taking back with her. She must have sent Gold to pick up Boron, but left the copies behind.

I try not to focus on how they’re all in the hangar. How they must have been able to think in some small way, to have been waiting here. How they must have been loyal, and truly believed she would come back for them. I don’t want to feel pity for them. It’s easier, I tell myself, to see them as animals. It’s easier than realizing they’d also trusted Dr. Han, and they’d also been betrayed, and maybe they hadn’t been too different from us… 

I push this train of thought away and walk to a familiar part of the hangar. There are still stains on the concrete here; dark patches of brown marring the grey expanse. Scattered around these are plastic wrappers and metal canisters from medical supplies and old bundles of gauze. It’s only now, months later, that I can see how well Rhodi had managed to organize his triage. The stains seem to progress from biggest to smallest in near perfect rows, showing where the most injured patients had been.

I shake my head as I think that I never did give my brother enough credit. Even under so much pressure, he’d managed to prioritize the most critical patients and make it fairly easy for himself and his helpers to move between them all. Efficiency and chaos could have been the difference between life and death that day, and Rhodi didn’t take that chance.

I finally turn away from this musing, fixing my eyes on the far side of the old triage area. I see another body there, separated from the rest. It’s smaller than those of the copies, and plastic training armor covers its chest and arms. It’s one I’d been avoiding this whole time. As I get nearer I start to make out the remnants of blue hair on its head.

I freeze, taking half a step back, only to find Grif right behind me.

“Are you sure you want to be here?” the Hawaiian asks again, concern leaking into his usual bored tone.

I nod and take a steadying breath as I force myself to step forward. “I can’t just leave him there,” I say, fighting past a sudden tightening in my throat to get the words out. “I can’t. Lico deserves better than that.”

I hear an uncertain shuffle of armored boots behind me before he speaks again. “Do you, uh, want some help?” he offers uncertainly.

I sigh and shake my head. “No. This… I’ve got this,” I reply. I gesture to a door on the far side of the hangar. “That side of the base was mostly uninhabited. It shouldn’t have been targeted in the attack. See if you can get the computers working and activate the ventilation systems. We might have to wait a while and I’d like for there to be air.”

Grif goes without another word, seemingly glad to have an escape from this situation. I don’t blame him. Watching someone else mourn is never a comfortable experience. And I honestly do want to be alone right now.

I can tell even from here that Lico’s barely recognizable. He’s been here for months already, and with the copies being left here, as animalistic as they were… I shun the thought instantly, not wanting those imaginings to fill my mind. I want to remember him as the same cute, energetic, mischievous little boy he was. I need to think of him as that, and not the body sitting here.

I turn away from Lico and find a foot locker pushed into a nearby corner. It used to hold stun guns and training weapons but seems to have been emptied during the attack. I double check that it’s empty before picking it up. It’s heavy, but between my own strength and the armor I’m able to handle it.

I set the locker down next to Lico, trying to ignore how it looks a bit too big for him. It’s close enough to serve its purpose. I blink and take a breath before finally forcing myself to look at the body. I don’t focus on what I actually see, on what was once his face or the damage to any part of him not covered by the armor. Instead, I think that he’s too small. He’s too young. I should never have let this happen. Not to him.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper as I kneel beside him. I lift him as carefully as I can, scooting forward and setting him in the open locker. There’s an unopened plastic bag of gauze left on the floor and I do my best to arrange it over his face, covering him from sight. The last I see of him is a bit of blue hair as I close the locker.

“I’m sorry,” I repeat as I seal it. “I’m so sorry. I should have done more. I should have stopped her,” I continue, resting my hand over where his chest would be. I lean forward, touching the front of my helmet to the locker, resting it there weakly. “I should have never left you. I should have never let you be in that position. I should have stopped her sooner. I shouldn’t have let you die, Lico. I’m so sorry.”

My vision begins to wobble and I blink rapidly, pushing the tears out of my eyes so I can see. I stand and crouch next to the makeshift coffin. I begin to push it toward the pelican, forcing it up the ramp until it’s back on level ground.

I stop then, hand hovering over the button to close the hatch. I glance back out into the hangar and fix my eyes on the door to the living quarters. I know the attack focused heavily on that section of the base. It’s unlikely that there’s anything salvageable. But just this, a plain locker in place of a coffin and no other family around to see, doesn’t seem like enough.

I debate waiting for Nick, Gold, and Rho, but decide against it. I don’t know how where they are or even if they’ve found my message yet. I know Rho will be scanning for any of our decided code phrases, but she still might not have come across the message yet. It could be hours or even days before they arrive. Lico’s already waited long enough as it is.

I finally sigh and sprint down the ramp. My feet only pause briefly for me to pry the damaged door open before continuing out of the hangar. I only truly stop when I reach the kids’ old room. It looks like it’s been ransacked, with clothes and what few toys they’d had thrown about haphazardly, but seems to have been mostly spared from the destruction the rest of the base endured.

I grab a few things I know Franc and Rubi will want, tucking as much as I can in the ammo storage compartments in my armor. I then find what I came for. Pushed under one of the beds is what appears to be a homemade toy energy sword.

I remember the day Lico showed it off for the first time, just after we’d found Wash and the sim-troopers. He’d looked so proud of the two prongs of bluish plastic glued and taped to the rubber grip. I had worried, at the time, if Tucker would react negatively to the revelation, though this fear had turned out to be needless. The teal armored man had shown genuine enthusiasm at the imitation and had even offered to teach Silicon how to wield the weapon.

I’m not sure if I can remember a time when he was happier than that, getting to hang out with this hero he’d heard so many stories about. I smile fondly at the memory and cradle the fragile toy carefully in my hands. It seems to have survived with little damage, but I still want to be cautious. It was Lico’s favorite before… _before everything happened_ , my brain supplies, not wanting to think the truth.

I make my way back to the pelican with my treasure. Once there I open the top of the locker and lay it on Lico’s chest. It still seems like so little, but I suppose there isn’t anything more I can do for him. I tie the locker down so it won’t move during takeoff before closing the hatch and preparing to takeoff.

The pelican begins to lift off the ground as Grif radios me.

“Uh, Silver, did I just hear the ship taking off?” he asks, sounding somewhat worried.

“Just taking care of something,” I answer, hoping he won’t ask for more of an explanation.

“You’re not leaving me here, are you?” he presses.

“No,” I assure him. “This shouldn’t take long. Just keep working on getting the base’s ventilation systems working. I’ll help once I’m done.”

Grif makes a noise that I’ve come to translate as a nod before going silent. I breathe a sigh of relief and turn off my radio. It’s not that I dislike Grif in any way, but I really do want to be alone now. I’m glad he’s willing to let me have this time.

Once the ship breaks orbit I stop I set the autopilot to keep it in place with the back facing into open space. I walk back to where the locker is secured and untie it, holding it with one hand so it won’t float up too high. I activate the magnetic grip in my boots before hitting the button to open the hatch. I still hold onto Lico, preventing the makeshift coffin from rushing out of the ship with the air,unwilling to let him go yet.

I place a hand back on top of the coffin. I clench my fist, wishing once again that I had been able to do something differently. I look out of the back of the ship, into the thousands of dots of light and the vast emptiness between them. “I’m sorry,” I whisper again, turning the locker so I’ll have a better angle to push. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t save you. I love you.”

I give a shove and watch as he drifts out of the ship, seeming so slow and yet disappearing so fast. I stay silent until he’s almost out of sight. I speak my final words to him as I close the hatch. “Good bye, Lico.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I can now say I have officially given up on any kind of uploading schedule. Sorry. But I've come bearing 3000+ words of chapter, so hopefully some of you can find it in your heart to forgive me.

Grif doesn’t say anything when I get back to the base, and for that I’m grateful. He also hasn’t managed to get the air filtration systems working. I’m not really surprised. Maintenance isn’t exactly his specialty.

I show him the basics of it as I work, listening to the groaning rumbles of the vents as they kick on. After a moment the air begins to flow. I tell Grif it’ll still be a few hours before this place is breathable, but it’s a start.

I don’t know why I’m putting so much work into this. We could easily stay in the ship or just wear our helmets until Rho and my brothers get here. But somehow that doesn’t feel right. This place was my home. More than that, it was the first place my family lived without our mom controlling us. It’s the first place we were ever free from her manipulation and lies. I feel like that makes it special. I don’t like seeing it in such a state of disrepair.

I manage to convince Grif to help me clean up the hangar next. He almost refuses before I make up something about the bodies attracting bats. I don’t know if it’s true. I honestly don’t know much about the creatures, having never been very interested in zoology. But I know Grif hates them, and it’s enough to get him to start moving the bodies.

It’s dirty work, and I’m glad we have our armor on for it. Even with the suit completely sealed I still feel dirty. The cleaning takes nearly two hours, shaving a bit of idle time off our wait. But once it’s over and we’ve cleaned our armor, thanks to a device inspired by old earth style carwashes, there’s nothing more to do.

Grif and I find ourselves in the base’s communications room. He falls asleep in his chair almost instantly, leaving me alone with the droning sound of the air filters punctuated by his occasional snores. The noises are too soft, too subtle, and I soon find myself on edge. Too much has happened in this place for me to feel at ease. There are too many ghosts here to not imagine them in every breath of air flowing through these halls.

I eventually head back to the ship and retrieve the damaged AI unit. I don’t stay there long. Something about the emptiness of this place unsettles me, and I find I want to be near another living being as soon as possible. I retreat back to the communications room with my prize in hand. Grif’s noises aren’t at all pleasant, but they’re a sign of something that is alive, and I need that right now.

I settle into my usual task of slowly fixing the storage unit. There’s a lot I won’t be able to do for it until I have the proper equipment, but I do what I can. I have to.

I hear a sound behind me, a shift in airflow patterns causing a slightly different tone to pass through one of the vents. I jump without thinking, nearly ripping a wire from the unit.

“Sorry,” I mutter quickly, putting the casing back in place to protect that section of wiring from my own frayed nerves. “I guess this place is getting to me. Too many bad memories,” I confide to the silent device. Part of me imagines it coming to life with a soft glow as I begin to speak, but I know it’s foolish. The unit is far too damaged for any outside information to reach the AI within, and it certainly wouldn’t be able to affect its container in any way even if it were awake.

“I used to live here,” I explain, finding it nice to be able to get the words out. “My family was in danger, and I fought every day to help them. But we were attacked and I couldn’t… I couldn’t help one of them.” I fall silent for a moment, forcing myself to not speak of that day. Instead, I remember some of the ones before.

“Silicon was a good kid,” I say with a small smile. “He was a natural leader, always helping his team and taking care of them. Not just by making them train, but by trying to make their training fun. He helped them stay calm throughout everything that happened. He got them back alive after the mission mom sent them on.” I push that thought away as well, knowing it isn’t a happy memory.

Lico’s team was like any other, consisting of four members. They only had three when they came back. I don’t know what happened on their mission, only that Tungsten never came back and Silicon said he was very brave, and that Tung saved a lot of people.

I continue with happier stories, eventually moving on from Silicon to talk of Neon, then Helium, then Boron. After a long while I explain about how we were betrayed, and the help we found after. I describe Wash; everything he did for my family and everything he did for me. I smile as I tell the AI of the man waiting for me back on Pantheon.

I miss him. I miss Washington more that I had thought I would. I didn’t realize how much of my time I really spent with him until I left. I want to get back to him. I find myself truly looking forward to it. After we find Sister, I’m going back to that planet. I’m going to see Wash, and my family, and I’m going to live. A few months ago I had no plans for my future. Now I do, and they feel good.

 

* * *

 

 

I lose track of time as I work on the AI, but eventually there’s a familiar voice filtering through the speakers in my helmet. “Anybody home?” it asks, accompanied by a message on my HUD requesting for the hangar’s doors to be opened.

I set the AI aside and type in the command on the room’s main console, glad the code is the same as when we were last here. I then nudge Grif awake with my foot and sprint out of the room, eager to see our new arrivals. I reach the hangar just as the ship lands and station myself at the bottom of the ramp as it lowers.

Nick’s the first to emerge, helmet tucked under his arm and a wide grin on his face. He picks up speed a bit to meet me on level ground, wrapping his arms around me without hesitation. “It’s good to see you,” he says sincerely, grip not loosening for a long time. I don’t mind. It’s been too long since I’ve seen any of my family. I’m glad for the opportunity to hold him.

“You too,” I answer before pulling back, examining his face and armor. “You’re looking a little worse for wear,” I comment.

“Work’s been good,” Nick shrugs. “Everything that happened with mom meant we had a bit of a reputation starting out, which is very beneficial in our line of work.”

“Do I want to know what line of work that is?” I ask warily. We spent a long time fighting to make sure the universe doesn’t think we’re criminals. I’d hate for them to have thrown that away so quickly.

“Just mercenary work,” Nick shrugs. “Nothing strictly illegal, and we do make an effort to not work for bad people.”

“It’s not always easy to tell who the bad people are, though,” a second and just as easily recognizable voice says from the top of the ramp.

I look up and see Gold. My face freezes half way to a smile as I watch him step down the ramp. I remember what he said when he left. Though he tried not to, some part of him blamed me for Boron’s death. I don’t know if his feelings have changed yet. Despite the desire to rush toward him and pull him into a hug, I wait. I need to know if he’s willing to be that close again.

“Hey, Sil,” Gold greets. There’s a smile on his face that I hope isn’t as forced as it seems. He’s slow and hesitant as he steps toward me, but the moment his hand touches my shoulder I step into his embrace.

“I’ve missed you,” I say, words mumbled into his chest plate as the taller man awkwardly hugs me. Gold simply nods.

I can feel the reluctance in him and step back, not wanting to push him too soon. He’s looked me in the eye, and he did welcome me. That’s more than I would have expected a few months ago. I know what it feels like to lose your partner. I doubt he’ll ever be able to fully forgive me. But he’s trying, and that’s the best I can hope for.

“Don’t forget me!” a happy voice chirps. I turn in its direction and see Rho materialize on Nick’s shoulder. “Come on, no hugs for the AI?”

“I would if I could,” I say, swiping my hand through the top of her avatar teasingly. Rho shoos my hand away and pats the top of her head like she’s fixing her hair, and I know she’s giving me a fake glare.

“She’s thinking that you’re as much of a pest as always,” Nick provides helpfully, and now the nonexistent glare is aimed at him. “Well, it’s true,” he tells the AI.

Gold smiles at the two as they bicker before looking around the hangar. Even with the bodies cleared away there are still signs of the battle that happened here, and with our enhanced senses it’s even worse. He approaches one of the brown stains on the floor and studies it with a frown.

“You moved him,” he says after a moment, a blank statement that covers up too many thoughts.

“I couldn’t leave him there,” I answer, looking between Nick, Rho, and Gold. “He deserves better.”

Gold falls silent again, eyes fixed on the spot.

“How’s he doing?” I whisper to Nick. I feel weird, asking about Gold behind his back like this, but I get the feeling he wouldn’t open up to me and there’s obviously something wrong.

“As good as you could expect,” Nick shrugs. “He’s having a hard time, Sil. Losing your partner… that’d be tough on any of us, and he has to deal with everything mom made him do, too. She sent him on a lot of missions while we were in hiding, sometimes finishing something we had started or else attacking a completely different colony. He hurt a lot of people.”

I try to feel surprised by this news, though I had honestly expected it. Mom hated the Covenant. Of course she wouldn’t have had Gold sitting around idle when he could have been killing aliens. Memories of what I did during a single attack are bad enough. I can’t imagine what Gold must deal with every day.

“Do you think he’ll be okay?” I whisper, daring to hope the slightest bit for his recovery. I want my brother back the way he was before, when he accepted me as his second partner and helped me feel better about my own leaving. I want him to smile and make jokes and be the leader he always was. I don’t want to see him hurt like this.

“He’s getting better,” Rho answers. “I think he needs time, and space. We’re doing our best to give him both and keep him busy. Working stops him from dwelling on it too much.”

I nod. It breaks my heart to know that Gold is going through this, and it hurts even more that I can’t help him. I still feel guilty over Boron. I always will. The fact that my actions not only cost one brother his life, but have left another in such pain, just makes it all so much worse.

“We tried to go back for Boron,” Nick says after a moment. My eyes snap up toward him guiltily. I hadn’t even thought to retrieve his body, not after how he had died. I’d just wanted to forget, at the time. “We couldn’t find him,” he finishes.

“What happened?” I ask.

Nick shrugs. “It looked like the body had been dragged away. We tried following the trail, but it ended eventually. Our best guess is one of mom’s monsters took him.” He seems to notice my fists clenching at my sides and tilts my head up to look at him. “Hey, it’s not your fault. We all left in a rush after we caught mom. You had other priorities.”

“I should have gone back for him,” I insist.

“It wouldn’t have done any good,” he argues back. “Besides, you know Boron wouldn’t care about that. He never put much stock in how people treat the dead. It’s the living that mattered to him.”

I nod, remembering one of the boy’s declarations on the subject from when we were kids. I realize now that it was an odd conversation for children to have, but we were never very normal. Boron had insisted he wanted nothing fancy if he died on a mission, and that no one should risk their lives to get him back if his body was in enemy territory. I smile at the memory. Boron may not have been eloquent, but he’d always cared.

“Come on,” Nick says after a moment, putting an arm around my shoulders and walking me further into the hangar. “I assume there’s a reason you wanted us to come here. Let’s start talking about what that is.”

I nod my agreement, more than happy to let this conversation end. It still hurts to think about Boron.

“I need Rho’s help,” I explain. I see her glow brighter with excitement at the statement.

“I knew it,” she crows. “I told you she’d need me. She’s lost without me.”

“I am not ‘lost without you’,” I defend, less concerned about protecting my pride than I am with keeping Rho’s smugness down to a manageable level. “But we’re following a trail that’s been cold for over a year. I need all the help I can get with this.”

“No fair,” Nick grumbles playfully. “It was finally my turn to get Rho for a while. You always hog her.”

“Well, she’s just that awesome,” I reply, bumping his arm with my shoulder.

Nick grins at the playful move before growing serious again. “What do you need her for?” 

“We’ve tracked where Sister was last seen,” I explain. “It’s very likely there are records there of where she was sent next. Unfortunately, that base was hit by an EMP over a year ago.”

“I’m not sure what help I can be, then,” Rho says. “If the computers got wiped, I won’t be able to do anything about it.”

“I know,” I sigh. “But if there is a chance that anything is still there, you’re more likely to be able to find it than we are.”

“Do you want us to help?” Nick asks. It’s easy to see his excitement over the possibility. No doubt he’s been feeling the same way I have, traveling with so few people. We’re used to a big family. It gets too quiet with just a few.

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” I ask, glancing Gold’s way.

Nick’s mouth tugs down in a small frown before he sighs. “No, probably not,” he answers.

I reach out and place a hand on his upper arm in an attempt to ease some of his disappointment. “You know I’d like nothing more than to travel with you guys,” I say apologetically. It’s true, of course. I miss them. But Gold needs to heal more before he can spend that kind of time near me. I won’t risk our continuing relationship for a few days of semi-normalcy.

“You said in your message that you had a surprise,” Nick interrupts my thoughts. There’s a mischievous look on his face as he holds out a hand. “Gimme,” he demands.

I huff out a laugh as I smack his hand away. “I can’t give it to you,” I begin, “but I do want to show you and Rho what I found.”

“What is it?” Rho asks, voice spiking in curiosity. I motion for them to wait as I head back to the communications’ room, retrieving the damaged AI unit and carrying it back carefully.

“Is that what I think it is?” Rho asks, flashing toward it as I approach. She glows brighter with excitement as she begins circling the storage unit.

I nod. “Grif and I found him in an old Freelancer facility,” I explain. “He’s damaged. It looks like he was in some sort of battle, possibly a UNSC raid, and someone stuffed him behind a wall panel to hide him.”

“’Him’?” Nick repeats, raising an eyebrow at me.

“Well, maybe him,” I shrug. “Most of the fragments presented as male. That’s kind of how I’ve been imagining it, anyway.”

“Is he one of us?” Rho asks, circling the unit.

“I think so. There’s a symbol on the side, here,” I point out, finger hovering over the Greek letter. “Zeta. It seemed like too much of a coincidence for this to not be an Alpha fragment.”

“I don’t remember the name,” Rho says slowly. “But I wasn’t with Freelancer for very long before being given to you, and there weren’t many records about the fragments.” She finally looks from the fragment to me. “Are you going to fix him?”

“Of course,” I answer. Rho thinks of the fragments as her family, and she’s as close to me as any of my sisters. Even if I had no other reason, that would be enough to fix this AI. “It’ll take time, though. He’s still heavily damaged, and I’ll need some specialized equipment eventually. I doubt I’ll be able to finish until after we’re done with this mission.”

“I can help,” Rho offers. “And I’m sure we can get Church’s help, too. He knows more about how we work than I do.”

“We can ask when the time comes,” I say, once again placing the unit on the magnetic holding strip on my lower back.

“Right.” Rho nods before reluctantly backing away from the new AI. “First we need to find Grif’s sister.”

“Exactly. Everything we’ve found so far is stored in my helmet if you want to look through it,” I say, holding out my hand for her. She and Nick share a look before she disappears and he reaches for her chip.

“Take good care of her,” he orders, semi serious, as he passes over the beloved AI.

“Just like family,” I promise as I accept the chip. I slide it into the back of my skull and wait for her to come online. It feels like home, having the familiar presence in my head once again. Rho sends out a welcoming hum in my mind, and I answer with a smile. “Welcome back,” I say as the pink and blue hologram materializes on my shoulder.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I can't really do much but apologize for this chapter. Some personal stuff has come up in my life and has effectively killed my motivation. Still, I'm going to try my best to keep this story going, even if it's only by a chapter every few months. I'm sorry for anyone who's been waiting and also very grateful to anyone still following this story. I'll try to do better by it in the future.

 

We say our goodbyes pretty quickly after that. Seeing this place again, even after Grif and I cleaned it, is tough for Gold. There’s still too much guilt here and far too many memories. His desire to leave was written in every line of his face from the moment he arrived, so Nick didn’t wait long before announcing that they would go. I feel relieved when he says it. It’s good to know he’s watching out for Gold.

Nick and I share our usual farewell, Nick adding a teasing order for Grif to keep me safe. We all know it’s a joke. It’s far more likely that I’ll be keeping the former sim-trooper out of trouble than he will me.

Rho takes over flying while I continue to work on the damaged AI unit. She’s interested in him, in the prospect of getting one of her siblings back. I understand how she feels. I’d do anything to track down the missing members of my family. I never could find Helium after she and Yttri were sent to attack that planet. And I never heard from Zinc after she was sent to Freelancer. Maybe she died when their ship crashed, or maybe she’s one of the ones in jail right now and I just don’t have a state name to track her down by. Or maybe, and this is the one I hope for most, maybe she’s one of the few who managed to escape, and she just hasn’t found her way back to us yet.

I tell Zeta about them while we travel, reminiscing back and forth with Rho and taking her advice for how to accelerate his repairs. Passing the time this way, I barely notice we’ve started our journey before we arrive.

The planet is somewhat familiar to me. I spent a long time looking for the Freelancers here, and Grif and I recently came back to investigate Blood Gulch.

“They really gave him an entire continent,” Grif says, for once awake without my needing to rouse him. He sounds both amazed and disappointed as he makes the observation; amazed that the UNSC would think Project Freelancer valuable enough to gift such resources and disappointed that their faith in the Director had allowed him to commit such crimes.

I nod. “The Director claimed his experiments could be dangerous,” I say, leaving out that he didn’t know his words would prove so true. “The UNSC made sure there wasn’t a chance of civilian casualties by giving him so much space. Of course, he used it to make the Freelancer training facilities like you were stationed in.”

Grif nods, remembering the explanation from last time. “Any chance we can stop by Valhalla while we’re here?” he asks suddenly. “I’d like to see what Simmons has done with the place. You know, make sure he hasn’t filled my base with all of his nerdy stuff.”

“If we have time,” I say, remembering the city that had formed next to the old simulation bases. The more arid regions where Blood Gulch and Command had been built hadn’t seen much colonization, but Valhalla’s region had been perfect for settlements, and all available land had been bought from the UNSC quickly.

I think of the people waiting for us in that city, Pantheon. The sim-troopers seemed eager to settle down there, last I heard, as did most of my family. The kids were at the nearby Spartan Academy, learning what they’d need for a civilian life and being rehabilitated after Imbalance. Simmons and Yttri were planning to start a company of some sort, based out of the bases in Valhalla and using the forerunner generator there to start out. Tinu and Donut had gone into business together, though I’m not sure if they decided on a clothing store or hair salon. And of course there’s Wash. Last I heard the former Freelancer had landed a job with a private security firm.

There are plenty of reasons to want to go back, and I’m tempted to alter our course and take us home now. I don’t, though. I know time is important to this mission. Family and home and all the promises that come with those words will just have to wait. Grif’s family needs to be whole. Once we’ve solved that problem, we can go home.

Rho takes us in for a landing a short sprint away from Command’s main building. Once we touch ground I pull her from the ship’s computer. It feels like a welcome home, having her in my head again, though it’s also a bit jarring. I’d grown used to having my head to myself. Though I trust Rho, there are still some things I’d like to keep to myself, which means I’ll need to stay vigilant. It can be exhausting to have to control your very thoughts.

Grif complains as we jog toward the building, despite my repeated explanation of why we had to park so far away. They already know the base has an EMP feature. Even though it’s likely fallen into disrepair since the project was shut down, it’s still worth keeping the ship out of its range. I’d hate for us to be stranded all the way out here.

Command looks worse than the sim-troopers described. I can only assume the UNSC did a number on it during their investigation, just like they did with all the other bases we’ve investigated. I’m beginning to wonder if their only goal was to make the job of finding Kaikaina Grif more difficult. They certainly did a great job of seizing documents and destroying clues, at least.

Rho and I check the first computer we find in the base. As expected, it’s wiped clean. Anything stored here was destroyed in the EMP. I sigh and can’t help but feel disappointed, though I had expected as much. That was the whole point of that failsafe, after all. The Director wanted a kill-switch to hide all of his illegal documents should something go wrong. I just wish he hadn’t done such a good job of covering his ass.

“Alright,” I say, glancing to where Grif has begun boredly kicking some debris around. “Stay behind me and don’t touch anything,” I order. “I don’t want any evidence to get destroyed.”

“Good luck finding anything,” he mutters as he falls in line behind me. I smother any replies I might have made to his sullen attitude. I know this search has been hard on him. Every day we don’t find his sister is a day he loses more hope. His demeanor is just a reflection of that. I understand how he feels.

I wonder, again, if leaving Grif behind would have been a better option. When we first set out I had wanted company and I’d thought he’d want to be the first to greet his sister when we found her. I’m still glad for his presence at times, if only to make the ship less quiet, but I’m not sure if this really is good for him. The chance that his sister is dead gnaws in the back of my mind. If all we find is a body, would it really be best for Grif to be there for the discovery? Would it have been better to simply return home with the bad news and not make him witness it himself?

I try to push this doubt away as we continue the search. Rho shows an indicator on my HUD whenever I see something that might help determine where Kaikaina would have been taken but most lead to a dead end. Eventually, though, we find a lead. On opposite sides of the compound we find two buildings, one labeled Blue Army Training, and the other marked for the Red Army. Rho suggests that this is where they processed new simulation soldiers without alerting them to the illegitimacy of their assigned armies.

“Sister was a blue,” Grif says then. “Maybe she was taken to that blue base for her debriefing. They wouldn’t want to let her know what was really going on until they knew what she was doing in Blood Gulch, right?”

I think about it for a moment. It does make sense that they’d want to keep her in the dark about the real purpose of her old base for as long as possible. A facility marked for the blue army seems like the logical choice for that. “Let’s focus our search over there,” I say. “Maybe if we’re lucky it won’t have been hit as hard by the UNSC’s investigation.”


End file.
